


Ostrava: January 2017

by Eliza



Series: The (15) Kisses Album [4]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:54:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24056281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eliza/pseuds/Eliza
Summary: Yuri hits the ice.
Relationships: Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky
Series: The (15) Kisses Album [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1727986
Comments: 6
Kudos: 69





	Ostrava: January 2017

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Mishap
> 
> See the series for notes

Otabek was out of his seat before Yuri stopped sliding. He considered jumping over the handrails down to rink level even as he hurried down the stairs. By the time he reached the end of the tunnel, Chris Giacometti and Victor were on the ice talking to Yuri. At Yuri, who was still face down on the ice. Who hadn't seemed to have moved. 

As soon as he saw Yuri give them the finger, he let out his breath in an audible huff. It was only then that he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to Katsuki, who was also watching the ice. "You okay?" Katsuki said quietly. 

Otabek breathed a rueful laugh. Yuuri Katsuki was one of the few people who would get it. Then a frustrated snarl echoed through the building, and Chris and Victor startled back, letting Otabek see Yuri push himself up onto his knees, sitting carefully onto his calves. The arena erupted in cheers. "I am now," Otabek said. 

Katsuki gave his shoulder a light squeeze and Otabek moved toward the boards. Yuri had taken the help to get him to his feet but he was skating off under his own power. 

"He's going to get checked out," Yakov said as Otabek came to stand beside him.

"Yes," Otabek replied. Of course a doctor needed to look at Yuri. Otabek could feel Yakov's eyes on him and turned to meet the coach's gaze. 

"Can _you_ get him there?" Yakov asked.

Now Otabek saw the problem. "Yes," he said, firmly. 

"If you fuck up your skate, Chris will never forgive you for letting him win gold that way," Yuri was saying as the trio reached the gate. If he was bitching at Victor, that was a good sign.

"Yes, I would," Chris said quickly. "I absolutely would, Victor. You may fuck up as much as you need to." 

Otabek stopped listening to the rest of the banter as he wrapped his arm around Yuri's waist to help him step off the ice. "Need to sit?" 

"Not here. Keep me moving." There was another round of cheers as they moved out of view of the crowd. Otabek could see the doctor waiting at the doorway of the exam room. There was a wheelchair outside the door. 

"Do you want me to flag us a taxi? Otabek asked. 

"No, I can make it," Yuri said with a quirk of a smile. He wasn't leaning too hard into Otabek's hold, it seemed more for balance. Otabek had no intention of letting go, though.

"You're not arguing?" 

"I want to find out if my nose is broken." There was no blood, but Otabek could see that it was starting to swell.

"Mr. Plisetski, that was a spectacular crash," the doctor said, taking Yuri's arm as they reached the doorway. "Everything seems to be working, though?" 

Otabek let the doctor take Yuri and he turned to the Russian junior that Yakov had sent to tail them. She looked up at him with huge eyes as she handed Otabek Yuri's skate guards. "He'll be okay," Otabek said, relieved to realise that he meant it. Cheers were starting up again in the arena. "Go watch Victor." 

She trotted off, and Otabek had just settled on the chair outside the door when he heard Yuri call him. He looked into the exam room and saw Yuri sitting on the table. "Can you get my skates off?" Yuri asked.

Otabek immediately went to work. Everything had seemed to be happening at a distance for the past—had it been only five minutes? It felt good to be able to do _something_ tangible to help. The doctor checked out Yuri's head while he did. Yuri often fought going to the doctor, but once there, he was good at being honest about his condition. From what Otabek could hear of his answers, it didn't sound like a concussion would be an issue. 

"It's not broken," the doctor said, her fingers on Yuri's nose. "But you're going to have some bruising. Lots of bruising," she said, after a slight hesitation. 

Otabek stood up with Yuri's skates, grinning. "At least purple's your colour." 

"Funny, Altin. Hilarious," Yuri said, glaring at Otabek as the doctor moved his shoulders. As Otabek held Yuri’s gaze, the glare softened and he knew his grin had as well. He saw Yuri face-down on the ice again and the weight of the steel in his hands took on the ominous feeling of a weapon. Yuri winced with one stretch and the doctor probed further, so Otabek used the break in Yuri’s attention to head toward the door. 

"Stay," Yuri said. There were only a few people who would have heard the slight edge of panic in the single word.

Otabek looked at the doctor, who gave him a little shrug and nodded toward a chair in the corner of the room. Yuri opened the fastenings of his top and the doctor helped him struggle out of it. He must have made some sound that didn't reach Otabek, because the doctor asked, "The shoulder?" 

"Yeah," Yuri answered. "Everything." 

"Sharp pain?" the doctor asked, for what might have been the third time.

"No." Yuri said with an obvious edge of impatience at the repetition, but then he sighed. "I just feel heavy. And sore. It's an effort to take a deep breath." 

"That might be a good thing. I'm going to get you a wrap for your ribs, just in case. It will probably feel better with it for a few days anyway. Knees? Ankles?" 

"I banged my knee. It will need some ice." 

"Which one?" 

Yuri lifted his left leg and rolled his eyes at Otabek over her head as she palpated his knee through his pants. "Yeah, that will be fine,” she said. “I'll be right back. "

When the doctor moved away, Otabek got a look at Yuri's chest. He could see where the bruises were going to appear—pretty much everywhere. Yuri reached for him, just a subtle movement of one hand, and Otabek was immediately out of the chair. He stopped just short of touching Yuri, but Yuri grabbed his jacket and pulled him closer. He could see the goosebumps coming up on Yuri's back so he loosened Yuri’s grip without moving away, stripped off his jacket and put it over Yuri's shoulders. 

Yuri shifted his hold to Otabek’s waist and tugged on Otabek's belt loops to get them close enough to let him rest his forehead against Otabek's chest. "Are you okay?" Yuri asked.

"Me? You’re the one with the new patterns on your skin.”

"And you looked pale when I came off the ice." 

Otabek sighed, rested his hands carefully on Yuri's back and kissed his hair. "It was scary."

"Yeah, tell me about it," Yuri said with a laugh. "Ow." Then he gave a growl of frustration, a quiet echo of the one heard throughout the arena. "It wasn't even the quad. A fucking triple toe which I've been doing since I was 9." Yuri had been so excited that Yakov had finally let him add a quad back into his program for the Championships.

Otabek kissed him again and rested his cheek on the top of Yuri's head, the turn letting him catch sight of Yakov glancing in the doorway. The coach nodded and retreated, probably to the chair just outside the door. Otabek dropped his head farther to whisper in Yuri's ear, "Yakov's sitting outside." 

"It's okay. He's seen me cry before." Yuri pulled back to look at him. "Although, I get the feeling I'll regret it if I do." 

Otabek smiled, skimming his fingers over Yuri's swelling nose. "Yeah, I've done this, too. Better not to if you can help it."

"Yeah? Hm." Yuri looked at him carefully. "Well, you were hideous to start out with, so it's hard to tell." 

Otabek grinned; insults were a good sign. But that didn’t mean he had to let them pass completely unanswered. "We need to take a picture." He took out his phone, backing away as Yuri grabbed for it. "Let the cat-ears know you're alive." The glare made the shot perfect. 

When he let Yuri see it, Yuri actually seemed disappointed. “It hardly looks like anything has happened.” 

"You’ll probably get colourful overnight." 

Yuri dropped his head back onto Otabek’s chest. "God! The airport."

"Surgical mask, glasses, hat—you can pretend you’re a K-pop star with a pimple." Yuri poked him in the ribs, making it clear what he thought of the comparison. Otabek kissed Yuri’s hair again; he couldn’t seem to get enough of that. "You need to call me when you land, though. I need to see you." 

Yuri took his hand, threading their fingers, and Otabek squeezed. "Likewise," Yuri said.

Otabek stepped back, lifted Yuri’s chin and kissed him properly. It was just a simple, sweet kiss, but Yuri backed away sooner than expected. The gasp he took clued Otabek in to what caused the retreat; his shallow breathing and swelling nose didn't leave much of a reserve. 

"Sorry," Yuri said. 

"I like you breathing," Otabek said, seriously. Yuri smiled and then groaned as they heard the unmistakable sound of Victor coming down the hallway. Otabek was starting to suspect that he made that much noise just to warn them that he was about to barge in. 

He could hear the doctor in the hallway, delaying the Russian contingent long enough for Yuri to kiss him. It was still just a quick one, but Otabek was finally starting to feel like he could take a full breath again. 

"Send me the picture," Yuri said against his lips, before they both took another breath and let the rest of the world back in.


End file.
